


A Foolish Man

by maccabird_23



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This relationship they had was built on top of the dead bodies of much weaker and foolish men that trusted too easily, or took the wrong side when the tides were turning. Flint, and Silver were neither weak nor foolish, and even as they took pleasure in the others body, schemed, and planned they both knew that at any time the tides might turn again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Foolish Man

 

 

Silver wasn’t a man who wanted for much. Well, that was a lie. But truth be told, for an orphan boy he deserved much more than those governors or politicians that lay about in their mansions, with their fine, powdery wigs.

 

He clawed, scraped, and bled his was to the position he was at now. At thirteen he’d been indentured to a merchant ship, a punishment to last the rest of his natural born life. Merely for stealing grain off a ship… then selling it on the street corner.

 

They were going to cut off his hand, had a tiny guillotine at the ready, and everything. But he’d thrown himself at the captain, a greying, round man in his late thirties. Wrapped his spindly arms around Captain Parrish’s plump legs, and pleaded his mercy.

 

The man had tangled his fingers in John’s curly mop, and as he looked up at the captain’s wet eyes he knew he had him. Parish had no deviant intentions, just a soft spot for young boys, his own dying from illness when he was eight.  

 

He’d spent fourteen years on that ship, watching as men aged out of service or died at sea. Some died from disease, but others much more grisly, at the end of a pirate sword.

 

John; though, he had survived. Thrived in the wash of sea air that tickled at his skin, and the scorching sun that offered no reprieve, no mercy. His scheming, and plotting earning him beatings, and the distrust of most of the men, but he didn’t care.

 

No, John knew from a young age that his mind, sharper than most made him the perfect candidate for greater things. And here he was, Quartermaster of a ship, and presently sitting atop his captain’s cock.

 

Captain Flint, the most feared captain in the entire New World. ‘The pirate savage had burned an entire town to rubble, killing every last man, woman, and child,’ they whispered in port towns. Fearing the legend, as he was no longer a man.

 

Looking down at the freckled, face of Flint, his sweaty brow creased, and hands grasping at John’s hips, holding on for dear life, it was hard to reconcile. Reconcile the legend with the man who was beneath him.

 

John wasn’t ignorant, no fool to be underestimated. He knew every tale was true, or had an inkling of truth. He had seen Flint kill men with his bare hands, ripped out their throat, and gouge at their eyeballs.

 

But somewhere between Silver losing his leg, and going to war with another crew over the Spanish Gold, they became lovers. He remembered the moment as clear as the unsullied beaches of uncharted islands.

 

He’d just finished stumbling his way through a barrel of lies about how he came to the true whereabouts of the Spanish Gold. Flint took hold of his collar, that glint of murder in his eyes. Told him to spill everything he knew. He’d told him everything that he needed to know, without getting himself killed.

 

After there had been a weighted silence, air so heavy Silver could barely breathe. Then Flint had asked the one question John had feared. “Did you have anything to do with this?” The words were spit through gritted teeth, snarled in his face, and that’s when he noticed just how close he, and the captain were.

 

Their noses bumped, and their chests were pressed against the others. Silver knew he had no physical strength left in his body, no momentum to run because of blood loss, and no ability to swim with just one leg. He couldn’t scurry his way out of this, and the only power he had was the favor of the men.

 

The favor he had built with the crew, Bones, and Flint. It was in those heated breaths that he decided his only option was to strengthen those bonds. Like Flint had said, the more the crew needed him, the more he needed them.

 

He had pushed forward, unbalanced, not use to the uneven weight with his leg now gone. He tightened his spindly arms around Flint’s back, and pressed their mouths together.

 

Silver knew that Flint had lost so much in such a short time, millions worth of gold, a pardon, and Ms. Barlow. Flint had responded like a man who had lost everything. He grabbed onto Silver like a man drowning. Pushed him onto the thin mattress, and searched his mouth with his own. Hands roaming Silver’s body, down his torso, up his shirt, and gripping at the sweaty flesh he found.

 

Maybe, he was looking for answers to all of his misery, but when he opened his eyes, he only found John. It must have been enough because he untied his own pants, pushing them below his thighs.

 

Silver had been naked from the waist down, and Flint had taken him then, and there. On the bed that he had spent the week recovering on, and it had smelt like sweat, and blood. The ship rocking them to, and fro with each one of Flint’s thrust.

 

John didn’t know what he used to ease his passage, but it hadn’t hurt as much as Silver thought it would. He had wrapped his one remaining leg around Flint, and moaned when Flint had tried to pull his other thigh higher, so he could get deeper.

 

He hadn’t answered Flint. Not even after they lay together on the small mattress, bodies heaving together. But John knew that there was an understanding. Even now, as he rides Flint’s cock, working on balancing himself on his one good leg, he knows that Flint understood.

 

This relationship they had was built on top of the dead bodies of much weaker and foolish men that trusted too easily, or took the wrong side when the tides were turning. Flint, and Silver were neither weak nor foolish, and even as they took pleasure in the others body, schemed, and planned they both knew that at any time the tides might turn again.

 

Spilling his seed on top of Flint’s chest, feeling the older man do the same inside of him, he grunted, pushing off, and falling on top of his sturdy chest. He had never called him James, and in turn Flint never called him John. Maybe it would have been harder to betray the other when the time called for it.

 

But now John was perfectly content to rest his head against Flint’s chest, listen to his heartbeat slow down. They’d more than likely go to battle the next day, and if each survived the cycle, their balancing act would continue.

 

For an orphan boy, and an indentured servant John had gotten far through his own schemes and plans. Had used every man who was foolish enough to trust him, and now he had more than anyone would ever expect from the likes of him.

 

But Flint wasn’t one of those men, and soon they would have a ship worth of Spanish Gold. Maybe their relationship was built on lies, and deceit, as perishable as the men on a pirate ship, but it suited them. It suited the kind of men they were.  

 

 


End file.
